


Fili, Keep It In Your Pants

by RarePairFairy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Fili the Fandom Bicycle, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Incest, Interspecies Relationship, M/M, No Dialogue, Unrequited Love, gratuitous use of Fili, gratuitous use of brackets, wow Fili you'll try anything once won't you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RarePairFairy/pseuds/RarePairFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the box and in the tags. Fili paired with ... well a lot of people ...</p><p>Chapter 1: Fili/Dwalin. Student-teacher crushes are hard.<br/>Chapter 2: Fili/Bofur. Some people are transparent.<br/>Chapter 3: Fili/Bilbo. Bilbo is a gift and Fili is the kid that really really really wants a Bilbo.<br/>Chapter 4: Fili/Ori. Everyone expected Fili to wind up with a warrior.<br/>Chapter 5: Fili/Dori. Vanity doesn't necessarily mean shallowness.<br/>Chapter 6: Fili/Kili. They found out that it was wrong, but by then it was too late.<br/>Chapter 7: Fili/Nori. Just because he's morally ambiguous doesn't mean he's not hot.</p><p>If this gets any attention, i'm willing to accept prompts pairing him with other characters. No limits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The most embarrassing thing was how his palms used to sweat. Dwalin thought it was fear and dutifully, because Fili was Thorin’s nephew, Dwalin tactfully didn’t point it out. He didn’t point out how Fili consistently couldn’t keep focus, or how Fili’s knees got weak when Dwalin pinned him, or how Fili’s breath quickened, but sure as the sky was blue he _noticed_ because Dwalin had a warrior’s habits and he knew how to watch his opponent.

Just Fili’s luck that he didn’t have a lustful vagrant’s habits instead. If he did, Fili might have looked more like a handsome young treat and not a nervous, jittery mess.

Fili tried asking Thorin discreetly if he could train with someone else. Balin was kinder (and older). Dis herself was brutal with a mace. Even Thorin, surely, could spare some time to tutor him. Thorin just looked grave and disapproving and told Fili that Dwalin had coached some of the best warriors he had ever known, and if Dwalin was failing to teach Fili, then the fault lay with Fili and he ought to seek to improve himself rather than flit from teacher to teacher like a dissatisfied bumblebee.

So Fili, humbled and wracked with nerves, would return to Dwalin’s lessons and continue to embarrass himself.

Fortunately Kili was the only one who knew, and even when he was very young and silly, he did not betray his brother’s secret. He teased him mercilessly as only younger brothers know how to do. But he did not betray him.

Years of lessons with a brilliant tutor, regardless of how profound and intense the romantic admiration, will eventually leave some evidence. Fili’s abilities developed along with his muscles and he found, to his private delight, that he could be more nimble that Dwalin, and that Dwalin would say so. Spurred on (and occasionally fatally hindered) by what Dwalin saw as pointing out the obvious, and what Fili saw as delightful flattery, Fili worked harder and harder at becoming a warrior to live up to the standards of his teacher. Inadvertently, he discovered along the way a fondness for weaponry and for tools and clothing that most befitted a warrior, until he hardly went anywhere without carrying at least four knives and wearing at least one layer of thick leather armour.

His affection for his teacher did not dull nor lessen, not even when Dwalin finally declared that the next lesson Fili should take ought to be one in real battle.

Thorin was appreciative, Kili was impressed and slightly bitter about still taking lessons, and Dis gave her eldest a dagger, perfectly shaped and balanced, sparsely but regally decorated and forged by her own hand to commemorate the occasion. Dwalin clapped him on the back. Fili was staggered, and inwardly mourning.

Fili drank by himself in a tavern and flashed his mother’s dagger at any passing drunk man who thought to make a clever quip about his size. It did not feel at all like a celebration.

Dwalin found him slightly tanked wandering home, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady. Fili could smell the fresh sweat not yet washed off from teaching, presumably, some new eager admiring young dwarf how to properly wield an axe. He felt possessive and jealous, and because of that he felt childish, and because of that he felt angry about being a child when Dwalin was such a … not-child. He was the antithesis of a child. He was battle-weary and battle-hardened and everything a dwarf ought to be, and Fili adored him.

Before they were in sight of the cabin Fili had been sharing with his family for the past few weeks, he dug in his heels. Dwalin tried tugging his arm once, then dropped it. Fili stared determinedly at Dwalin, and Dwalin stared right back.

Fili didn’t want to be a nervous child any more. He wanted to take some small part of what he wanted while it was still standing before him, before circumstance parted them the way it had parted everyone. He knew Dwalin could stop him if he wanted to, and he would certainly want to, but Fili wanted … he just wanted. And he wanted to be able to console himself, _at least you tried_.

Self-conscious of his tipsy state and probably morose countenance, he took the buckles crossing over Dwalin’s chest in hand and jerked him forward (or jerked himself forward – he was a lot less steady than Dwalin at that moment). He felt their lips touch for a merciful half a second, long enough to feel relief that he had hit his target, before landing on his back on the ground winded and stunned.

He realized that he had been shoved before he realized that Dwalin had shoved him, and then he realized that he had just tried to kiss Dwalin and in response Dwalin had shoved him, and about that time his gaze settled more or less steadily on the figure between himself and the moon.

He was a little intoxicated still. He had been expecting rejection for too long to feel heartbreak or humiliation just yet. He appreciated briefly the expression of shock on Dwalin’s face, an expression he had never seen those features shape before, and picked himself up off the ground, dusted himself off, and turned to walk the rest of the way home. He did not look back, and Dwalin did not call out for him.

 _There_ , he told himself. _You tried_.

 _Congratulations_.

It wasn’t until lunch the next day that Dis mentioned in response to Thorin’s questioning that Dwalin had returned to the Iron Hills to attend what he had vaguely referred to as “family business”. Fili numbly listened as his mother and uncle bickered – Dis that she couldn’t control Dwalin’s behaviour, and Thorin that Dwalin never left unexpectedly without a very good reason – and then he stood and went to hide in his room for the first time since he was a little boy.

Kili came to find him. Neither of them had to say a word. Kili stood in front of the mattress where Fili sat stooped, and wrapped his arms tightly around his brother’s shoulders. Again, even in Dwalin’s absence, Fili found himself feeling childish.

For the first time in a long, long time, he was not ashamed of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Fili communicated through brawling the way Bofur communicated through music. It hadn’t come naturally to either of them, but they had latched onto their chosen crafts as a means of expression, of unleashing whatever tensions were inside them and finding release. For Bofur, his tensions were mournful, secret and it would never have been guessed for the joyful way he played his flute. He was still half-waiting for the axe buried in his cousin’s head to kill him, ready and yet frighteningly unready for a member of his family to drop dead at any moment. He worried about his brother. Sometimes he worried that he was going to die, however much he trusted his fellow company members. They could not watch each other’s backs all at once, and death only takes a second and a lucky swing.

But he laughed, and he rabbited on and looked gleeful and met every horror with a grin as if he were utterly prepared at all times for death and destruction. But it wasn’t because he was prepared for death and destruction. He was just accustomed to expecting it.

Fili’s tensions were worn on his sleeve. Hiding only intensified those tensions, so they never stayed hidden for long. If they won the mountain, he would be first in line for the throne and that meant a world of responsibilities and burdens he hadn’t grown into. He would have to learn it all from scratch. He had never lived in a kingdom. He felt happier among those who treated him as if he were just another “lad”, just another brother-in-arms with the miners and the tinkers.

And if they didn’t win the mountain, he would feel the shame forever or he would die.

Killing orcs was easier than trying to meet the challenges that being King would bring. Slicing a goblin’s throat was easier than wrapping his head around the enormous possibility of failing to reclaim Erebor. He knew how to fight and he knew how to kill. He was only ready to be the prince his mother and uncle expected him to be, because he had no other choice.

Bofur saw Fili cut down his enemies and look every inch the finely groomed, blue-blooded, extensively trained prince that he was. He also saw anger and pensiveness and reluctance and fear in the twitch in the corners of his eyes and the set of his teeth, and the way he seemed almost relieved when a fight came along, his thoughts clear as fish beneath the undisturbed surface of a lake, _now here’s a fight I know how to win_.

And Fili had watched Bofur dance on Lord Elrond’s table, had listened to him sing and whistle away in the halfling’s smial, and he only heard Bofur’s heart in the low notes and the utter resignation of his cheerfulness. He wondered how someone so clearly afraid could be so sincerely, stubbornly carefree. He wondered why Bofur couldn’t feel self-pity. Then he looked at Bofur’s family and his upbringing and he realized that some people simply did not have the luxury of self-pity.

Bofur winked at Fili over the fire one night while telling a ghost story which had Bilbo tucking himself a little further under Thorin’s arm, and Fili felt the beginning of an inner avalanche. He winked back and the next day, they walked side by side, a silent agreement that the weights had been tipped and they were allowed to admit, at least in this way, the pull between them.

In the dark of Mirkwood, where Fili had expected to hold his brother’s hand the way they did when they were children, it was Bofur instead who he shared comfort with and by the time Thorin was willing to send his precious Halfling up a tree to see if there was an end to the blasted treeline, Fili and Bofur had begun sleeping pressed close side-by-side for warmth and reassurance.

Kili asked Bilbo if Bofur was all right when they were all stuffed into their separate cells in Thranduil’s dungeon, and Fili felt he was being given permission. Thorin did not say anything about the way Fili gripped and held Bofur first when they were out of the barrels, but that was permission too, in a way. His uncle could put a stop to it with a single word, if he so chose.

But whether Bilbo had softened Thorin’s edges, or Thorin’s edges had softened themselves with increasing proximity to their goal, Bofur was allowed to sleep in Fili’s bed in Laketown. When Kili laughed at Bofur’s jokes, he laughed at Bofur-and-Fili, and when he shared a private joke with Fili, he shared it with Fili-and-Bofur. Perhaps hobbits were not so different either, because when the suddenly grim subject of marriages and betrothals came up one night in conversation, Bilbo asked Bofur-and-Fili with casual and curious innocence if they had decided on a date for their handfasting.

Even with this new and precious thing on his list of things he was probably going to lose, Bofur let himself be happy in an unrestrained way for once, and refused to look too closely into the future. Fili decided that responsibility did not have to mean adopting the tired, serious and browbeaten expression he had so often seen his uncle wear, and he let Bofur’s cheerfulness rub off on him like dirt and they shared between them their tensions, played each other like flutes and fought on each other’s behalf.

They found release.


	3. Chapter 3

Fili had never seen anything so un-frightening.

He, the Halfling, was as near-hairless, barefoot and lithe as a human child (save those charming feet completely out of proportion to the rest of him, as if they had been designed for someone else). His expressions, frazzled and confused and upset as a baby goat stuck in a hedge, just begged to be encouraged.

Fili liked Bilbo immediately.

He was reminded of his adolescence when he had just begun to notice young lady dwarves, girls whose beards barely showed so that they still looked delicate, could even pass for human if they weren’t so stout. He remembered feeling drawn to them when they were his same age, and losing interest in ladies altogether when he began his battle training in earnest.

But Bilbo was sweet and accommodating and breakable and, as it turned out, bafflingly brave. Almost stupidly so. Fili’s closely watching him could at least be seen as natural in light of this, even if Kili sniggered when no-one else was listening. Fili would have thumped his brother for it, but then he’d remember the way Kili had caught Bilbo after Bilbo was tossed by a troll and would feel a surge of renewed affection.

And anyway, if Thorin was going to be blatantly dismissive toward Bilbo, the least Fili could do as the next member of Durin’s line was compensate for his uncle’s harshness by providing friendly affection. That was how he measured it out in his own mind, letting himself believe that the more Thorin disliked Bilbo, the more Fili had a right to like Bilbo, just to keep things balanced.

And it was hard to stop when Bilbo smiled, appreciated Fili’s attention so much, allowed Fili to ask him questions about his feet and about his ability to read in other languages and even, if things were quiet, about his garden.

Then Bilbo rescued his uncle, so shortly after announcing with alacrity and a no-nonsense tone that he would happily offer his life and loyalty where their own kin – other dwarves with kingdoms and armies of their own – had declined to do so. Fili’s fondness turned to admiration, and the sweet, breakable Bilbo that had fretted in the hallway of his smial transformed into the creature Gandalf had seen all along. The one he had insisted the company take on their quest. He was a prize of sorts, one they had been given for free. He was no longer the one with anything to prove. _They_ had to earn _him_ now.

He told Bilbo this at the foot of the carrock and even in the warm firelight, the blush on Bilbo’s cheeks was clear. Fili sat by him, and when Bilbo retreated back into his more recognisable reserved and harmless little self, Fili used it to bolster himself and acted the bolder hero to Bilbo’s deliberate show of un-heroic damselness. He flirted.

Bilbo sputtered a little and while they drew a glance of attention now and again, sitting apart from the others, no-one interrupted. Bilbo had earned the status of “special”, and if Fili had liked him better than his uncle since the very beginning, then Fili was allowed to made Bilbo sputter and blush and restlessly tangle his fingers in the tattered remains of his waistcoat without anyone making it their business.

Bilbo didn’t start to flirt back until the first night at Beorn’s, and he did with a completeness that reminded Fili of the little figure leaping in front of an orc and shocking everyone with his unexpected daring. A kiss, offered rather than stolen, in the scant privacy of the stars and an open fire when no-one was watching. It was almost chaste, save the swipe of a tongue over his lower lip that Fili thought he’d half-imagined until he caught sight of Bilbo’s eyes, darkened but restrained, as if he was still, even in this, holding himself back.

Fili was left in something of a daze, musing that maybe hobbits were a no-nonsense race after all and not quite as haphazard as Bilbo’s fussy little hobbit hole had suggested. He kissed back with dedication to the task, and did not stop kissing until he got to that delicious, honey-sweetened tongue again.

Kili, excellent and wonderful and understanding brother that he was, vacated the bedrolls laid out side by side that he and his brother would have shared, sleeping instead nearer the wall so that Fili could victoriously cuddle the hobbit with just enough measure of privacy to placate what remained of Bilbo’s prudence.

In the morning, there were plenty of grins and knowing looks and nudges with elbows and almost-leers to make Bilbo look and feel thoroughly uncomfortable, but by the following night Kili’s bedroll was permanently moved nearer the wall and Fili and Bilbo slept in each other’s embrace again without having even to discuss it.

Fili had won Bilbo, and Bilbo let himself be won.


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone, including Fili, expected Fili to wind up with another fighter. Kili had always believed that they would meet a noble pair of warrior maiden sisters and have a joint ceremony, and it was the one instance in which Thorin had ever agreed with his youngest nephew’s prophecy.

Their actual destiny was both quite different, and bizarrely not so different at all, but we will get to that in time.

Fili had never met Ori before the night in Mister Baggin’s home. He had heard the Ris mentioned, knew that Gloin had called a dwarf called Dori a vain old fool and that he mothered his brothers and that apparently one of those brothers was a no-good sneakthief and the other was an awkward, wet-behind-the-ears son of no-one in particular. The questionable fatherhood of the three Ris wasn’t the reason Fili had never had contact with them, but he got the impression it didn’t endear them to his closer cousins.

Fili knew Gloin and Oin were traditional, the self-aware noble type, and he didn’t mind so much. But he didn’t like it when they let status be an issue. Thorin didn’t, and he was a king, albeit a king-in-exile. Dwalin didn’t, and he was the king’s closest friend and cousin. And if the two people Fili idolized didn’t take blood all that seriously, then neither would Fili.

He was feeling a little dazed, the hum of the thought of Erebor reverberating in the back of his mind as it had been since his uncle declared his intention of getting a collective of warriors together for the sole task of winning back their home. It was near excitement, nearer nerves, but he corralled his feelings, and then the three Ri brothers arrived and for the first time it was Kili reminding Fili not to stare, rather than the other way around.

Ori was so … _mouse-_ like. At a glance the others might dismiss him as being too eager without understanding what he was trying to get himself into, too young and ignorant, and entirely unprepared with his little slingshot and his book and badly knitted cardigan and mittens. Like a little mouse who had a rat and a doting rabbit for family.

Dori and Gloin, slightly frosty, shared nods of acknowledgement before Dori introduced himself to anyone he hadn’t met on the road. Nori didn’t bother introducing himself to anyone and went straight for the ale.

In what was possibly an attempt at distinguishing himself from that controlling mass of braids and fussiness, Ori approached Gloin, the first dwarf he had seen his brother address, and introduced himself. Fili, unnoticed, watched with mild interest from the opposite archway and took note of the determined set of Ori’s shoulders. So he was shy, but unwilling to let it stop him from speaking. Fili liked that.

Gloin glanced at Ori, an up-down-up sweep of his eyes and a grunt, and it was that dismissive acknowledgement that had Fili’s teeth setting themselves instantly on edge. Without warning, he approached from behind and threw an arm heavily around Ori’s shoulders as if they were old friends.

Ori’s slight jolt, barely there but tangible to someone with Fili’s reflexes, made Fili smile. Then Ori’s ears turned pink, his eyes wide, and Fili vaguely remembered something his mother had said about how everyone knew and saw him as a prince even if he forgot it sometimes.

Shortly, while Ori was still tripping a little over his words and Fili was trying not to think about how unbearably cute he was, Kili bounded up and Fili was reminded of a puppy that had just seen a mouse for the first time, curious and completely unaware of the fright he was causing.

At dinner, Fili felt a little put out at Kili stealing the seat he had wanted (next to Ori – Gloin was livid at how much attention Fili was deliberately paying to him, especially since it made Dori incredibly smug) but it was enough to see the boy come out of his shell, coaxed by plenty of ale and food and the company of dwarves even less notably humble than himself, for Bofur, Bombur and Bifur were not even literate and Ori was a scribe and half their age.

He sang, irreverent and completely at Bilbo’s expense, much as it was the hobbit’s own fault for being so amusingly flustered, and hugely enjoyed Ori’s singing along with him. By the time the next morning had rolled around, and the hobbit chased after them, and the Company had formally become the Company, it didn’t matter that Gloin and Dori griped at each other or that Kili would gleefully and devilishly refuse to leave his side whenever he tried to get Ori alone. They were all travelling together, and if Fili had to make an effort to claim Ori’s friendship, then all the better. There was something unsure, disbelieving still in Ori’s eyes. Fili wanted to banish that. He wanted to _prove_ that he had chosen Ori, and wasn’t just spending time with him out of having so few dwarves his own age to pick from.

Nori saw it, and Fili caught an approving grin once or twice when he pointedly said something designed to make that lovely blush appear on Ori’s face (“You can write and ride at the same time without falling off? How impressive, you must have excellent balance” “you have a good beard for one younger than Kili” “with hands dextrous as that, I’m sure the dwarrowdams in Ered Luin are missing you fiercely”).

Dori was hypersensitive to the possibility of Ori being teased, so some of the looks Fili got from him were more beleaguered, but he would always find a way to reassure the overprotective figure that held such sway over the object of his friendly affections. He couldn’t bear the thought of Dori convincing Ori that Fili was anything less than sincere.

It was only when Thorin approached him one evening and took him by the arm when the others were occupied, that Fili realized what he had been doing.

‘I would recommend you put poor Dori out of his misery and court his brother properly. Any more of this silly flirting and you will drive them both out of their minds. I cannot commend your choice of timing, but I’m sure you understand the importance of not jeopardizing our quest. Just try and be sensible.’

Fili took a moment to absorb what his uncle had said. He hadn’t been taken aside. Thorin hadn’t given him a chance to discuss the issue. He had simply walked by his side for a few steps, leaned in to allow the necessary brief privacy, and said his piece. That was probably for the best. Fili had to sit down and think, only breaking out of his reverie when Kili dragged him off to look for game.

If Fili had been paying closer attention, watching his brother as closely as he usually did, he may have noticed the spring in his step and the glimmer in his eye. If he had been observing his uncle as closely as he usually did, he may have seen him take Nori aside for a brief talk.

After successfully shooting a doe for their evening meal, Fili murmured to Bombur that he would take Ori his supper. Bombur, twinkling slightly, the old romantic, spooned a little extra into two bowls and handed them over.

Thorin, he noticed, had set Dwalin to watch the ponies rather than he and Kili. The pressure of that action, the clear declaration after what he had said earlier that day, _court his brother properly_. He almost blushed himself at his uncle’s push for progress.

When Fili sat beside Ori and offered him a bowl, Gloin’s eyes very nearly bugged out of his head. Kili went to sit with Nori and practically dropped into his lap. Gloin very nearly fell off his seat. Oin, glancing at the tableau across the fire and then at his brother, burst into self-satisfied laughter. Dori neatly sipped spoonfuls of stew and smiled primly.

Ori’s smile was wide, and genuine.

Kili always thought he and Fili would meet two sister warrior maidens, fall in love at the same time, and get married on the same day. In the end, he wasn’t _too_ far off the mark.

Nori and Ori were brothers, at least. And when it came time to prove it, they were warriors too.

Fili promised Kili that they would at least wear matching colours on the big day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Thorin gave Nori the shovel talk. Take a moment to picture that.  
> Also, Kili just wants he and Fili to get married simultaneously and hi-five after kissing their respective spouses. Because he’s a fucking cutie.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I nearly made this one a daddykink story, because hey, Dori is like twice Fili’s age. I guess Fili is attracted to older dwarves? Or maybe he’s just attracted to the Ri brothers. Someone mentioned shipping him with Nori.  
> My headcanon is that Kili is a total dork. Can you tell?

Kili used to tease Fili about how much attention he gave to his braids. The  moustache was his favourite, because Fili never changed it, not even when the beads holding the ends flung up and thwacked him in the cheek if he turned his head too quickly. Fili nagged at Kili in return about never doing more than pulling back the bangs liable to fall in his face, and even then, there was usually a screen of brunette flying in his face if the winds were strong.

Then they met the Ri brothers, and all their pestering at each other ended.

Ori had clearly never spent much time worrying about his hair or how it fell, gave himself to a sparsely functional cut to keep it from his eyes as he read or wrote. Nori was extravagant, the most noticeable of them all by shape at a distance (after Bombur) and rebelliously individualistic.

But Dori, well. Fili had ever seen hair so artfully arranged. As if in response to his family being forcefully lowered down the rungs of society by twists and turns of fate, Dori dressed himself in the finest cloth available and his behaviour was even finer, far beyond the respectfulness expected of any noble dwarf.

Fili felt nearly inadequate in comparison.

That was not to say he was delicate, or foppish, or soft. Dori used his bolas and knives to lethal effect with the same precise and practised ease that he did everything else. But what Fili admired most was how conscious Dori was not to hold everyone to the same standards to which he held himself.

Dori tolerated Gloin’s officious, sparse language just as he tolerated Bofur’s boasting unrelenting lower-classness, as if he were hyperconscious of his own unstable rank and this was the only way he could think of maintaining peace. When Kili misbehaved, Dori was gracious. When Oin mistook his sentence, Dori was polite without being condescending. He was loathe to be walked all over and did not shy away from questioning or challenging anyone, not even Gandalf, but he always found a way to be kind. There was a tenderness in his patience that made Fili feel strangely warm.

Fili caught himself picking burrs out of the fur on his coat, or brushing a hand through his hair whenever Dori passed. Kili caught him doing it too and looked equal parts amused and perturbed, shooting him looks as if to say “really? _Him_? But he’s _old_.”

Fili saw Dori coddle Ori and, feeling greedy and ashamed, forced aside the feeling of wanting to be coddled too. Not by Thorin or by Kili, but by Dori. He wanted to be one of the people Dori openly adored, openly fussed over. He felt stupid for wanting to be in Ori’s place when Dori carelessly straightened his cardigan or patted down his hair, actions Dori never had to think about because caring for his loved ones came so naturally to him.

They stopped at a lake after making it down from the carrock, and Fili had coped for weeks and weeks. He had told himself, almost convincingly, that it was a youthful crush and he would grow out of it. But Dori was too elegant, too sophisticated, too good in the way he devoted himself wholeheartedly to his family, even to Nori, as much trouble as the kleptomaniac gave him. Fili was utterly taken with him, and had been for too long to cast it off as a “brief infatuation”.

Bordering on filthy as they all were, the moment they saw a lake the company were out of their clothes and ready to bathe. Fili’s heart was still thumping from the trip on the back of the eagle, on the near-death of his uncle and the shock of Mister Baggins leaping to his defence with his little dagger and expression of grim determination. He was in a mood to act.

Kili splashed his brother playfully, but stopped still at the look on his face. He followed Fili’s gaze where it was stuck on Dori, who released a now clean-haired Ori to paddle in the shallows before beginning the painstaking process of undoing his braids.

Kili raised his eyebrows, then snorted and went to terrorize their brave burglar before Thorin put him off-limits. Over his shoulder he muttered something extremely dirty, which made Fili’s cock twitch, and he violently cursed his pesky brother under his breath for being so efficiently unhelpful. Then, Fili gathered his courage and approached his older paramour.

‘May I help?’ he murmured, trying not to show his nervousness, trying not to be too young or too irritating or too any-of-the-things-Dori-probably-thought-he-was. Dori looked up with faint surprise, not having heard him approach. There was a very brief moment of silence, and then Dori’s easy graciousness returned and he crushed the awkwardness of the moment with a polite smile that wasn’t too polite, and scooted to the side on his submerged rock to allow Fili some space.

‘I would greatly appreciate it. My shoulders are all sore,’ he confessed. Fili suspected they were more than just sore. Dori had held the weight of both himself and Ori while hanging from the tree, and no-one had been allowed the time to stretch or massage the aches out of their muscles since goblins. On top of that there was a purple bruise on Dori’s upper left arm where an attacker had gotten a lucky shot.

Fili attentively undid the braids on Dori’s head as Dori attended to his beard, working with care and speed. He wondered if Dori was acknowledging that he had been accosted, and if he could feel Fili’s rapid pulse when his wrist brushed those perfectly shaped ears with their expertly crafted cuffs. He wondered if he was being clear enough, but was scared to push. Pushing would certainly put Dori off if nothing else did.

He tried not to enjoy too much the feeling of Dori’s thick hair in between his fingers, made wavy by having been kept in its braids for so long.

Dori produced an ivory comb from a pocket of his clothing, which he had placed on a dry rock within easy reach, and ran it through his hair as if straightened and flowed in the currents of the water. It caught the light.

Without thinking, Fili reached out to run his fingers through it. Dori let him. Wordlessly, he combed Dori’s hair with his fingers as Dori moved his attentions again to his beard. The pair of them went uninterrupted, even when other members of the company slowly started to head back to the shore. Dori’s hair was finally clean, as was his skin (Fili shared the plain soap he had stashed away, and tried not to blush because that was _his soap_ that Dori was running _all over his naked body_ ) and Fili wanted an excuse to stay in the water with him. But Dori simply thanked him with an obscure expression on his face, and sloshed out of the water to dry out in the sun.

Fili felt conflicted and confused and wondered if he had done the right thing. He dismally felt that, perhaps, he should have kept to himself.

He went to the shore where his clothes were piled, haphazard from having been rifled through for the soap which was now left forgotten on the rock. He maintained a decent distance from Dori’s attractively nude body, and when Kili flopped down beside him and offered only a consoling look and an offer to hunt with him later, Fili smiled gratefully.

To say everyone felt better after dinner would be an understatement. Thorin, who had studiously avoided standing too close to Bilbo during their bath, went so far as to shed his coat and wrap it around the halfling’s shoulders when Bilbo began to shiver. Kili visibly stifled a giggle, and Thorin glanced over darkly to silence him. Then he turned his gaze briefly to Fili. Fili shifted uncomfortably when that gaze turned further along, to where Dori sat trying to get Ori to try something green.

Dori was given first watch. Fili got the message. It occurred to him that he must have been fairly obvious, and that perhaps everyone had seen and pitied him. He decided to appreciate his uncle’s help and stubbornly ignore anyone else’s opinion.

Dori was uncharacteristically reticent when Fili went to sit beside him, their backs to the moonlight, faces illuminated only faintly by the smouldering embers of the fire.

‘I’m sorry if I was too forward,’ Fili said. He had thought about how to approach Dori, whether he should start with small talk or get straight to the point. He still had no idea what to do. He just knew something needed saying.

‘You were quite direct,’ Dori said, and for once, Fili thought he could see Dori being careful. He prepared himself for disappointment. It hurt.

‘I wanted to talk to you about …’ Fili started to confess, and found himself unable to articulate what he wanted. How did he put into words what he wanted? He left the sentence hanging and fiddled uselessly with the corner of his tunic.

Dori reached over and stilled Fili’s hands. He then left his hand where it was, wrapped around Fili’s fingers, and Fili knew for certain Dori could feel his pulse racing.

‘There are some conversations that should be carried out with clothes _on_ ,’ Dori said delicately. Fili deliberately kept his hands from pulling his coat further over his lap, and silently agreed.

Dori gave Fili a moment to collect his thoughts (a moment wasn’t enough, all Fili could think was how smooth Dori’s hands felt against his skin) and then he looked over and their eyes met.

‘I had not expected you to be so bold,’ Dori said, keeping his voice low. The effect brought to mind images Fili had tried to restrict to nighttime fantasies. ‘Or to bother with me at all, in fact.’

It was a rare insight into Dori’s view of the whole situation that tilted Fili’s perception, for just a moment. He had been thinking the whole time that Dori was too good for him. It hadn’t occurred to him that Dori might think Fili could also do better.

‘I hadn’t expected my feelings to be so persistent,’ Fili said, measuring his words as best he could with Dori’s hand still resting atop his own. He dragged his thumb up the arch of Dori’s hand, and drew his lip between his teeth as he considered what to say. Only one thing would come to mind, but it was better than silence, so he said it.

‘In the river, I kept thinking about how your hair looked just like silver,’ he confessed.

Dori’s eyes widened imperceptibly. Then he chuckled. Fili frowned. ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ Dori said, proper and serious once more. ‘I was, at that time, thinking of how your hair looks just like burnished gold.’

Fili flushed, and Dori chuckled again. Then their fingers were twined together and Fili knew what this was, it was acceptance, tentative steps toward courting, recognition of a match having been made. It didn’t matter that Dori was of more or less low birth, and it didn’t matter that there was a distance of at least fifty years between them.

Early the next morning, Dori reached over and tucked aside an errant strand of Fili’s hair, and Kili laughed loud enough to wake even the sleepiest members of the company.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili.   
> Oh. My. God. Right? Everyone wants to tap that. Even Kili.
> 
> I haven’t read many fics that adequately address the fact that, even if it’s hot, Fili and Kili are brothers and this raises problems. Most fics seem to gloss over that and treat it as “oh, but they’re really really close”. I’m close to my brother, but there would still be humongous emotional and moral issues if we started boning.
> 
> I understand that problems would realistically arise if Fili were with any male character, and I understand that shipping is about two characters being in love, not dealing consistently with canon shit. It still honestly feels like an oversight that there aren’t more fics that go “wait a minute, Fili is Kili’s older brother and that would make blowjobs really weird.”
> 
> My only excuse for choosing to write and include this is that this series would have been missing something if I didn’t. Fili/Kili just seems to be the normal pairing for our favourite blonde bombshell. Because hey, apparently no-one else in the show is attractive enough and brotherly love in the cinema is enough to make a teenage girl go “incest? Fucking yes please.”  
> This is just me consoling myself. You really don’t have to take my abuse. Enjoy the story.

They had been doing it since they were young. Too young to know that it was wrong, sick, perverted, bizarre. Whatever words they heard hissed or spat since to describe what they used to do nightly. They were lucky they learned by example, when two dwarves from a forge their uncle briefly worked at were discovered in a store room, charged and thrown into separate jails. People only talked about those brothers when they thought Fili and Kili were out of earshot.

Before then, they had just thought it was another intimacy, another thing they just did together, because they needed each other and no-one had ever told them it was wrong for brothers to need each other.

But after, they didn’t stop. It became quiet and there was less laughter, less affectionate touching, less looking each other in the eye. But they did not stop.

It became as impersonally personal as masturbation. It was the only way they could make it normal. When they had the corresponding need and a secret place to retreat to, they undid their britches and helped each other reach climax. They did not talk about it. In over seventy years, they did not say a word to each other about how, if it had been an especially frightening day and they happened to have the privacy, Fili rolled Kili onto his front, prepared him quickly and carefully, and fucked him slow and hard until they both came.

They did not talk about how, when they were much younger, they used to do it face-to-face.

On the quest, from the halfling’s home to the Lonely Mountain, they only had that privacy twice. They needed it much more often than that, and Fili tried to convince himself that it was simply one of many luxuries they had to do without on the road. That felt strange. Thinking of his little brother as a luxury.

By the time they reached Laketown, and everyone else was passed out and they had an entire room and two soft beds to themselves, they had gone for an entire three months without so much as jerking each other off. In the woods, even in the dungeons, it had been impossible because the focus was on staying together as a group, not just as a pair. Even when Thorin finally pulled their burglar in for a ferocious and needy kiss, Fili could not so much as reach for Kili’s hand.

The emotional distance grew with the physical distance, until they finally had that room together in Laketown and the walls were thick enough to muffle their uncle and burglar’s activities to the occasional dull _thump_ and muffled groan, but for the first time, Fili wished that they didn’t have the privacy. He glanced at his brother in the pregnant silence, sitting on the edge of his bed, wondering whether he should start to get undressed and go to sleep.

They had gone for too long without it. The desire had intensified until it passed, like going without food for a very long time until he didn’t even feel hungry any more. Now there was only the strangeness, and the guilt.

He remembered when Kili was knee-high to a man, shorter than Fili, with his smooth and hairless chin and bright eyes, how he would sneak up and pounce and rain kisses on Fili’s face, glance around to see if they were alone (because even back then they had an inkling that what they were doing was wrong) and struggle eagerly with the ties on their clothes until Fili was laughing joyously, until they were finally naked, and they would roll on the bed together and use their mouths and fingers and look for new ways to make each other whimper and growl and grunt.

Fili wondered if he had used his brother. He felt a scar of guilt on his heart. Something he could never fix.

Something he did not want to fix.

He stood up and when Kili’s eyes darted to him, he did not hesitate. He felt his hardness strain against the inside of his smallclothes, knew that Kili could see that too. The shame didn’t make it go away. The shame made it harder to stop.

Even when he reached Kili’s bed, and Kili hadn’t backed away even when the baleful desire on his face became less baleful and more heated, Fili did not stop. He made the decision to continue. He knew he could turn away now. He knew he could say, _we need to stop. We can’t do this anymore_.

But they had been doing it since they were children. To stop now would not wipe away everything they had done. What was one more bloodstain on a red, rusty axe? This was a part of what they were. This was a part of their love. A dark, secret, wrong part, but a part all the same. And Fili was not ready nor willing to give up his love for his brother.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Kili’s lips and felt his gasp. They had not kissed in decades. He felt layers of clothing being pulled away, neither of them breaking the kiss, the recognition that it wasn’t just lust that drove them into each other’s arms but a permanent passion as well, and something broke.

Fili was pushed back onto the sheets. Kili nuzzled his neck firmly, aggressively, tugging his buttons apart, kicking his shoes off, and then they were completely naked, and they hadn’t been completely naked together in years either. Fili felt Kili pushing his legs apart.

Fili had never played the recipient before. He had always been on top. He was the older brother, and that was part of being the older brother. Taking the lead. But if they were going to break the rules, then fine. He may as well have asked out loud for this. Kili kissed his lips, his eyelids, pulled apart his braids until his hair lay free and spread out on the pillows. He undid Fili completely with kisses and forgiveness.

Kili prepared him slowly, for long enough to firmly establish that this was consensual, that Kili knew exactly what he was doing, what _they_ were doing to each other. They looked each other in the eye.

They did it face-to-face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, wow. Surprise!kisses appear to be one of my Fili headcanons. I’ve tried writing him as a shameless flirt, and I’ve tried writing him unable to figure out his feelings. I think I like this story the best so far. I feel like Nori could teach Fili a lot of tricks … >:D
> 
> Also, I have officially shipped him with all three of the brothers Ri. Congratulations, you bastards.

When Fili was very young, he took a hammer from a forge when the blacksmith’s back was turned. It wasn’t a particularly desirable hammer, not by any real standards. He’d just wanted it. His uncle had found him out quickly, and sternly set him straight. Fili had been made to apologize to the smith, return the hammer, and work for a week in the forge as recompense for his actions. He hadn’t stolen another thing since.

Meeting Nori came as something of a shock.

First to go was Bilbo’s expensive spoons. It started happening on the road a few days later. Little bits and baubles now and then. Almost every time, Nori could convince people that little things just happen to go missing on long trips like this. But it was a fact that nothing of Dwalin’s ever went missing, nor anything of Thorin’s. Ori also seemed strangely immune, not that he carried anything of value anyway. If everybody else was fair game, well. That was just their bad luck.

Fili couldn’t imagine how one dwarf could be so shamelessly casually thieving.  Kili came to him one afternoon, frowning his troubled and baffled frown, saying he just couldn’t understand it. He could have sworn he’d left his good arrow tips _right there_ when he was preparing the wooden shafts to fit them. Fili knew the ones. They were quality iron. Would probably fetch a good price if they stopped near a settlement or a village.

The boot dropped, and he approached Nori that night.

‘Give them back.’

Nori looked at Fili with such an immediate thick layer of “who, me?” plastered on his face that Fili just knew that must be a sentence he’d heard every day for decades.

‘The arrow tips. Kili needs those.’

‘I’d imagine he does need to carry spares on him. A bit little trigger-happy. Eyes like his, could do with shooting less, if you ask me.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Fili could glimpse Ori’s troubled watchfulness and Dori’s silent growl. He kept his eyes focussed on Nori. He knew an attempt to derail a confrontation when he saw one.

‘Give them back.’

Nori raised his eyebrows, barely an inch. If his hackles were raised, he was hiding it well. He shrugged his shoulders.

‘It’s not me that’s got them, lad.’

‘Then tell me who you sold them to.’

‘I never took them.’

Fili fumed. There was nothing he could do while they were setting up camp. He couldn’t start a fight without bearing his uncle’s disappointment for the next five years (Thorin really knew how to turn a minor disappointment into a special breed of grudge). He couldn’t very well go through Nori’s things. Nori knew it. He knew it.

He returned to Kili empty-handed, and said sorry. Kili just continued to look baffled. It wasn’t often that Fili failed to do what a big brother should be able to do.

Fili glared at the fire for the rest of the night. Ori came to collect their bowls and tried to tell Fili that it wasn’t really Nori’s fault, he just couldn’t help himself. It came as naturally to him as breathing did to everyone else. It had the forlorn, thumb-twiddling tone of a defeated sibling, one who had tried to make sense of his brother’s sins and failed, time and time again.

Fili told Ori that he didn’t have to apologize for what Nori should know better than to do. He was angrier then than he had been before, after that. Sending one’s younger sibling to solve a problem brought on by one’s own selfishness and stupidity. Really. It was despicable.

Fili tried to lift Kili’s mood the next day, but it wasn’t easy. Those arrowheads had been one of the last things Dis gave to Kili before they walked out the front door towards their destiny, or their doom.

The trolls happened, and Fili was distracted by his own idiocy for a moment. The sound of Kili hollering “I’ve got the biggest parasites in the world” was going to stay with him, and he’d make sure it stayed with Kili too. Then, almost immediately, there was the troll hoard and then that odd brown rabbit-sled-driving wizard showed up out of nowhere and pulled Gandalf off to the side to talk about something dreadfully important that could very well have been not important at all. You never knew with those scraggly, scatter-brained old types.

Kili wandered up just as Fili was cleaning the dirt out from under his nails, looking chipper.

‘Look what I found in my pocket,’ he said, holding up a palm full of shrapnel.

Except it wasn’t shrapnel. It was arrow heads.

‘Thanks,’ Kili murmured. Fili watched him bound off, utterly confused. Not quite knowing yet why, he glanced over to where Nori was counting some of the shinier coins they’d found in the hoard. Nori did not glance up. From where he was standing, he would have heard the exchange between Fili and Kili. If he’d been listening for it.

Then there were the wargs and the orcs and then Gandalf had to trick them into going to Rivendell, of all places. Being among the elves certainly didn’t improve Thorin’s mood, but where Fili usually reflected his uncle as much as possible, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than a mounting curiosity.

He couldn’t imagine how three brothers could be so drastically different – Dori, so proper and decent, Ori, so spasmodically brave-shy-brave-shy and both of them without a devilish bone in their bodies. And then, in between, Nori, the _absolute_ devil, in both charm and misbehaviour. If it weren’t for Gandalf’s comment about the dragon being able to smell dwarves, Fili would have wondered why the hell they needed Bilbo when Nori could spirit an entire cutlery draw’s worth of fine silver off a table in plain sight without the elves catching him.

That night, in the absence of two senior members and their wizard and burglar, there was more of a fraternal sense of easy-going brotherhood about the company as they made the place more comfortable with a fire and some sausages. Fili noticed Nori missing, even if no-one else seemed to.

He checked to make sure Kili was suitably distracted by Bombur breaking a table, then snuck off to the lower balcony.

Nori was rebraiding his hair under a tree. It seemed an odd place for him to be, all alone. He was applying the finishing touches to the triangle atop his head when Fili made his presence known.

The oh-so-subtle shift in Nori’s arms, like the slight rise of his eyebrows, spoke volumes. Nori had a dagger hidden on him somewhere.

Fili faintly wondered how many enemies Nori made in a month, how much of his days were easily taken up with wondering who wanted to kill him, but he drove those thoughts to a halt and sat beside Nori instead, letting him cope with arranging the back of his head in somewhat companionable silence.

‘You gave Kili’s arrowheads back,’ Fili said. He had tried to work out why Nori would return them. Fili’s demands had gone unheeded at the time, left not a dent in that armour of selfishness Nori wore proudly everywhere he went. Nothing significant had changed since then. Puzzling it out on his own had yielded only more confusion.

‘I never had them in the first place. He must have just lost them for a time. It happens,’ Nori said carelessly. Fili scowled.

‘I just want to know what Kili did right, so that next time you get sticky fingers he can know what to do to get his things back,’ Fili said, a little snappishly, but who could blame him? Nori did not respond for a few minutes. They stayed sitting together under the tree, Nori’s hair newly rearranged, impeccable and bold as before.

‘Perhaps Kili had little to do with it,’ Nori finally said, before sighing. ‘Maybe I just wanted to see you get your royal pants in a twist trying to figure me out.’

Fili turned to stare at Nori, before bursting into a loud, bellowing laugh. A couple of birds were startled out of the tree above them, and fluttered away.

‘Of course. Because you’re such a terribly _complicated_ fellow, Nori.’

Nori gave a shrug, and his eyes twinkled.

‘Can you work it out?’

‘So you finally admit to taking the arrowheads.’

‘I’m admitting nothing.’

Fili narrowed his eyes, and peered into Nori’s face. No wonder the dwarf was good at cards. His poker face was as flawless as his hair. As flawless as his everything, really. For such a dirty scoundrel, Nori had made an art out of looking sleek and clean.

‘Admiring the view, lad?’ Nori suddenly said, and Fili blanked. ‘Surely your honourable mother taught you it was rude to stare.’

Fili blinked and then quickly covered his thoughts up with a smile that was probably completely transparent. Then he thought, why not. He was an adult, not a misbehaving child, wasn’t he? And even the thought of being a little underhanded was seductive. No wonder Nori found being bad so enjoyable.

Fili, mustering all of the speed and accuracy he’d learned in sword training, as well as the lack of fear of sharp things (remembering Nori’s own knives and reflexes), cut the distance between them and landed a kiss firmly on Nori’s stunned-slack mouth.

It lasted two seconds – long enough for Nori’s hands to jolt before his brain caught up and told him he wasn’t in danger – and then Fili retreated, winked lewdly, and stood. Then he turned and swaggered back in the direction of the laughter and crackling that was the Company.

It took Nori a whole hour to realize his hidden dagger was missing. He returned to the Company then, to the sight of Fili languidly reclining on his bedroll and using it to clean the dirt from under his fingernails.


End file.
